Disclaimer: I do not own Make it or Break it.
Pairing: Sasha/Payson
Rating: M for language and suggestion of sexual thoughts.
A/N: It's been a long time since I wrote any fanfiction and this is my first in the MioBi universe. Please let me know what you think.

Sasha whistles under his breath as he makes his way through the gym, sixpack tucked under his arm. With Ellen Beals breathing down his neck and the awkward conversations he's had with both Payson and Summer, he has been looking forward to an evening of Guitar Hero and beer all day. He pauses in front of the girls' lockerroom, noticing one of them has left the lights on, yet again. Setting down his sixpack with a sigh, he opens the door.


'Should have knocked first,' he thinks vaguely as he takes in the sight before him. Payson Keeler, dripping wet, is rummaging through her gymbag, towel wrapped around her hair when it really, really should have been wrapped around her body. His eyes travel to her chest and he notes her breasts are really as big as they look in a leo. Bigger than most gymnasts', due to her sudden start of puberty after her fall at Nationals. They sway along with her movements as she continues to search her bag, cursing softly. He feels his eyes move lower and before he's had more than just a glimpse of her well-defined bum, he closes the door, feeling incredibly dirty.

And horny.

He quickly picks up the sixpack and sprints towards his office, hoping the game will take his mind off Payson's surprisingly voluptuous body. 'Not so surprising,' his brain supplies. 'You see her in a tight leotard every day.' He closes his eyes, hoping it will help stop the influx of images. Of course, these images are in his mind so it doesn't exactly work. He sits down on the couch and opens a beer, gulping down nearly all of it with his eyes still closed.

"God, you must be thirsty," a voice breaks through his steady mantra of 'Don't think about it, don't think about it.' He opens his eyes and there Payson is, fortunately dressed quite modestly now. Her conservative sweaterdress makes him feel even worse about the inappropriate swelling he still feels in his crotch.

He attempts a smile, saying;" Yeah, well I needed that after today. Beals would not stop calling and Summer-" he stops himself there. What he was about to divulge is really not something one of his gymnasts should hear. Especially this one.

Payson plops down on the couch beside him and smiles encouragingly at him. "Go on, it's not like I'll tell anyone." He studies her for a bit, her earnest expression and wet hair tied in a messy bun on top of her head.
He sighes deeply and takes another sip. " She, uh, implied that I might have sent you the wrong signals, causing you to kiss me." He says it quickly, like ripping off a bandaid.

"What? That's…that's about the stupidest thing I've ever heard her say, and she's said plenty of stupid things." Payson bursts out. An involuntary laugh escapes his mouth before he can quell it. He's always known that Payson isn't exactly fond of the bubbly blonde, but he suspects this has given her an outlet for those feelings.

"She's just always butting into things that are none of her business, that she couldn't possibly understand!" Payson continues, obviously encouraged by his laughter. "What the hell does she know about our relationship as coach and gymnast? She's a secretary!"

"Co gym-manager," Sasha corrects, not quite managing to make his tone scolding. Payson scoffs and grabs the guitar leaning against the couch, switching the game back on. As she starts playing, Sasha admires her. Payson shows passion and fire in every single thing she does, even if it is a silly game. It frightens him slightly as well, knowing that if she ever turned that passion on him (again) he'd surely cave in as soon as she did.

The next few days are torture for him. He's been helping her on vault for her Yurchenko double twist, albeit reluctantly. After an hour long discussion, he had conceded to letting her practice it in the pit. Every time his hand touches the small of her back to help her over, or when he pulls her out of the foam cushions, he flashes back to the girls' lockerroom.
Even though he had noticed before that moment that her body has changed (in fact, he was the one to point it out to her), he can't help watching her curves, painfully obvious in the tight leo's she's wearing. He's glad Payson is oblivious to attention from the opposite sex, as anyone else would have noticed his stares by now.
And he stares a lot. He stares as she takes off her yoga pants before practice, or when she fixes her bun, causing her breasts to become more pronounced despite the fact that she's wearing a sports bra (a fact he relishes as it minimizes her curves in that area) or when she punches the mat in frustration when her beam dismount lands her on her ass.
It's so very, very wrong, but Sasha simply cannot take his eyes off of her.

He knows it's only a matter of time before someone notices, and he supposes he's kind of happy it's Summer. She thinks too much of him to ever guess at the nature of his looks.

"Sasha, can I talk to you about something?" Summer asks, a bright smile on her face. He recognises this smile. It's the one she wears when she wants him to do something he really won't like. He checks his wince in time and follows her up to the office. He leans against the desk as she starts speaking," Sasha, I've noticed that you've been paying a lot of attention to Payson. Do you think that's wise? I mean- with what happened…" She trails off, not willing to say it.

He's more than willing to say it (and repeat it) however:" You're referring to Payson kissing me?" He admits to himself that he feels an inappropriate level of glee at her obvious discomfort.
She sighes heavily and cocks her head. " Yes. I don't think that you're giving her the right message. As long as she thinks you share her feelings, she won't be able to let go of her crush." She preaches earnestly.

"I know teenage girls, Sasha, I used to be one. I know how nice it feels to have the attention of someone you find attractive. Everyone wants to be appreciated. But I don't think this crush is good for Payson, or her career. Or yours, for that matter, if this were ever to go public."
Summer seems sincere in her concerns, but her presumptuousness has been grating on his nerves for a while now, and he snaps.

"Oh come off it, Summer. The only one who thinks this crush is inappropriate is you. A relationship between coach and gymnast is complex and you will never understand that because you are neither a coach nor a gymnast. You're a manager. And you're good at it, I know that, but you cannot possibly understand my relationship with Payson, or the complexity of her feelings towards me." He breathes heavy as he finishes his little rant and he realises he feels protective of Payson. In particular, of her feelings towards him. He hopes- a small, persistent and ugly part of him at least- that this is more than just a crush.

Summer looks hurt and she starts arranging her pens according to colour, something she does when she is stressed.

"Summer, I'm sorry," he murmurs," but I really don't think you're seeing this for what it is."

"No, Sasha, I don't think you do," Summer retorts. She stands up for behind her desk, grabbing her purse. "And frankly, it worries me."

He knows Summer was partly right about the situation. He probably is giving Payson the wrong signals. But so long as she doesn't pick up on them, he can't find it in himself to care.

It's a miracle he has survived this long, but as he sees Payson enter the gym wearing short shorts and a tank top, slightly sticky with sweat, he nearly loses control. As he steps closer to her, he sees she's not wearing a bra. He looks her over again and barks out;"What do you think you're doing here?"
She jumps at his sudden shout and drops her gymbag in her surprise. "What do you mean, what am I doing here?" she tries innocently. It comes out as weak instead.

"You're obviously sick, Payson." He admonishes, pressing his hand against her damp forehead.
"No, I'm not. I just came from a run."
"You went running without wearing a sports bra?" it's meant to be sarcastic, but he can't believe he's just said that. He might as well have said he can see her nipples, taut from the cold space of the gym, through her shirt. (which he can, oh yes.)

She blinks at him and quickly covers her chest with her arms(damnit), fixing him with an angry look a second later as what he said dawns on her.
"You were looking?!" she says incredulously.
"I-no. Payson, I'm your coach and I am supposed to notice everything about you. And yes, it might be awkward, but I know very well that running without a sports bra has to be painful or at least uncomfortable with your cupsize. So stop lying. You are sick and you are going to go home and sleep it off. Okay?" he manages to say, sounding relatively steady even though he can feel himself blushing as he thinks about how she would have looked running in just her tank top, her breasts bouncing- he stops himself, not quite in time. He realises Payson is looking at him oddly. "Well, go on!" he says, as if he has heard what she was saying in protest.

Having Payson gone from the gym allows him to relax a little. So when she comes back two days later, looking markedly healthier, he's unprepared. To make matters worse, she stays late to make up for lost training time, leaving the two of them all alone in the gym. They're currently working on a triple twist for her floor routine. Sasha is almost afraid to touch her, fearing it will only feed the ever-growing pile of inappropriate thoughts.
"Yes!" she yells as she sticks it for the third time in a row, successfully pulling him out of his reverie. "I want to go again." He stops her before she can run back to the other side of the floor.
"Hold on, Payson. I think that enough for one day. I don't want you to strain something."
"Fine," she grumbles, stomping off towards the lockerrooms.
"Wait!" he calls after her. "I, err, I need to talk to you. About that kiss. I need to know if I did anything to make it seem like…"
Payson is staring at him, looking confused. "Of course you didn't. You were doing your job and I read too much into your actions. It's not your fault I developed feelings for you, Sasha." She stresses as he opens his mouth to protest, "You helped me through such a difficult time in my life and you would have done it for anyone, that's just-" He holds up his hand to stop her.

"No, I don't think I would have, Payson. You…You are special. I've known that since I stepped foot in this gym. I don't think any of the other girls could have recovered from your injury in the way that you did. That was all you. Not me." He says, looking deeply into her eyes, not even noticing his hands resting on her shoulders, his thumbs circling her throat. She flushes and looks away from him.
"Sasha. " she mumbles. "Please, I…this is hard for me. " She gestures to his hands. He keeps them there anyway, deciding that, fuck it, he wants this and he wants her. He's so damn tired of trying to ignore his attraction- his growing feelings for this amazing girl.

He kisses her.

And it's fantastic, her lips as soft as he remembers them from that first kiss, but this one is so much better now that he can participate. He moves his hands from her shoulders to her waist and pulls her closer instead of away. She fits right against his body, her soft curves pressing into his chest.

He can't believe he waited so long to do this.

The End. Maybe.